


Seven Days

by grim_lupine



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grim_lupine/pseuds/grim_lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week in Nate and Ray’s life post-Iraq.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Days

-

\--

Monday evening, Ray comes home and finds Nate spread out on the bed, thrusting his fingers inside himself with a look of intense concentration and distracted lust. There’s a pink flush starting up at his ears and washing down to his chest, but he meets Ray’s eyes steadily and says, in a voice that wavers only a little, “Had a nice day, Ray?”

Ray drops his jacket on the floor, says gleefully, “ _Fuck_ , you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s like my own personal guardian angel of gay porn said ‘what could Ray possibly need in his life?’ and then sent you to Iraq for me. I’m telling you, Nate, it’s almost enough to turn me religious. Except I’m not retarded enough for that.”

“I have this theory, Ray,” Nate says, sliding another finger into himself, voice breaking off into a slight gasp at the end of his sentence. “I think if you managed to shut up for once in your life, all that excess energy would be diverted into you being able to fuck me hard enough that I pass out. What do you think, Ray?”

Ray grins, slow and toothy, reaches for his jeans. He’s never gotten naked so fast in his life. “I don’t know if I can keep up with all these theories and shit, Nate. You should probably just make it an order. Just to make sure there are no misunderstandings.”

Nate wets his lips. His eyes are glassy with lust, the clearest green Ray’s ever seen. “Get the fuck over here and fuck me, Person. And keep your mouth shut, if you can manage that,” he says, enunciating each syllable carefully with his red, bitten mouth.

“Yes _sir_ ,” Ray says, straddling Nate’s body on the bed and cheerfully ignoring his last directive. He sees Nate’s cock twitch at his words and laughs, says with unholy glee, “Like that, sir? Kinky motherfucker, no one would believe it looking at you. You look like such a _nice_ boy, our choirboy LT who’s gonna get carded at every bar he walks into for pretty much the rest of his life, but get you into bed and you turn into a _whore_ , don’t you, sir?” While he breathes his words out inches away from Nate’s mouth, he starts stroking Nate’s cock, reveling in the way Nate bucks up under him.

“Ray, how hard is it to follow a simple fucking order?” Nate asks, voice strained. The intended effect of his words is slightly ruined by the way he cranes his neck upward, trying to catch Ray’s mouth with his own.

Ray ducks his head down, gives Nate what he wants, what they _both_ want. He kisses Nate as filthy and nasty as he knows how, licking his mouth open and drawing every last bit of air from his lungs. He pulls away after a moment, sees how swollen and red Nate’s mouth has become. “You don’t want me to shut up, Nate,” Ray says, smiling in a way he knows is oozing smugness. Maybe the best reason he fits with Nate is that Nate doesn’t look anywhere near irritated with that expression on Ray’s face; his lips just twitch upward like he can’t help himself, like he _has_ to smile when Ray gets that way.

Ray does his retard bit, and Nate’s eyes get lighter. It works for them.

“Don’t worry, though,” Ray continues, reaches down until he’s got his own fingers where Nate’s had been, getting Nate stretched and ready for him. “I’m good with orders, the ones that make sense. Tell me again what you want, Nate.”

Nate grabs Ray’s wrist. “Fuck me, Ray,” he says, and this time is voice is calm, direct, like he’s fallen into himself and found that part of him that makes people want to follow him like he’s the fucking Pied Piper or something.

Ray grins. “Yes, sir,” he says, and does as he’s told.

*

On Tuesday afternoon, Ray gets bored. When Ray gets bored, he needs something to entertain him, preferably of a pornographic nature. Nate is very obliging at such times. Unfortunately, Nate isn’t with him at the moment, and therefore Ray is at a loss.

Not for long, though.

 _I wish I could suck you off right now_ , he texts Nate, grinning at the thought of what Nate’s face will look like when he unsuspectingly opens up his phone. _You don’t even know how badly I need something in my mouth. You’d make me choke on it, and fuck, I’d love it. I know you would too._

He hits ‘send’ and waits. The best part about Nate is that Ray is never quite sure how he’ll react to things. He came to Iraq looking like a choirboy with cocksucker lips, and while everyone was trying to figure out what to make of him, he turned around and proved himself the best fucking officer they’d have. He blushes like a schoolboy, but fucks Ray like it’s his fucking calling. Nate gets weirdly offended when Ray abuses grammar and punctuation, like Ray talked shit about his mom or something; but when Ray starts off on one of his rants, playing it up because there is nothing he does better than perform for an audience, Nate just looks at him with his lips pressed together to contain his laughter, eyes lit up delighted and green. Ray’s forever trying to put that look on Nate’s face.

The point is, Ray doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Maybe a text that says _Ray, stop jerking off all over my inbox_ , only with more of the Ivy League vocabulary that Ray finds strangely endearing.

There’s a pause during which he imagines Nate reading his text, eyes widening slightly before he smoothes out his expression so that no one can tell he’s turned on. They don’t know to look at the back of his neck, which pinks up without fail when he’s thinking about the things Ray’s going to do to him. They won’t know how to read Nate’s eyes.

Ray’s phone blares at him, and when he opens it he sees: _I’d love it, would I? You seem pretty sure of that fact, Ray._

Oh, _that’s_ how he wants to play it, then? Nate wants to fucking challenge him, and Ray is more than up for it.

 _Yeah you’d fucking love it_ , Ray types, _make me stop talking, gag me with your cock? I’d take you so good, just fucking swallow you down. I’d let you come all over my face, too. You want that, Nate?_

While he’s waiting for Nate’s response, Ray shoves his jeans down just far enough to get a hand around his cock, strokes himself a couple of times. Fuck, if Nate were here right now, Ray would be down on his knees with Nate’s cock down his throat before you could say ‘cocksucker’. His mouth’s already watering a little at the thought; he doesn’t know what kind of drugs Nate’s shooting out of his cock, but whatever it is, it’s got Ray hooked.

His phone buzzes at him again. The answer’s quicker this time, one succinct line: _I’m coming home_.

Ray grins.

Boredom successfully eradicated, motherfucking _check_.

*

It’s Wednesday morning, and Ray’s singing in the shower at the top of his lungs. The bathroom has truly awesome acoustics. He pauses briefly to duck his head under the water, scrubbing through his hair and soaping up his chest. Through the water running into his ears, he hears the door open and then shut again, and turns around to see Nate standing outside the shower stall, looking amused.

“Are you going to just stand there like a serial killer or are you going to get the fuck in here already?” Ray calls over the sound of the shower, waggling his eyebrows up and down. Nate laughs silently and ducks into the stall, leaning in to kiss Ray with one hand cupped around the back of Ray’s neck.

Nate pulls away, kisses Ray quickly one more time, says with a grin bright in his voice, “Are you done shrieking in here and scaring the shit out of the neighbors, Ray?”

Ray puts on the best wounded look he has, the look that says ‘you heartless motherfucker, how could you just stomp all over someone who has a face like this?’. “That hurts, Nate,” he says. “You just kicked me right in my sense of self-worth. Destroyed my belief in myself as a musician. What next, are you gonna tell me I’m too fat and you don’t love me anymore?”

“Ray, you eat like a heartbroken teenage girl stocked up on Ben and Jerry’s, but believe me, ‘fat’ is the last thing I’d call you,” Nate says dryly, puts both his hands on Ray’s waist to illustrate. His thumbs dip down slightly to stroke over Ray’s hipbones, scratching lightly with his blunt nails, and Ray can’t help but sway forward a little until he’s rubbing his cock against Nate’s body.

“That’s the wrong answer, Nate,” Ray says, voice going a little strained when Nate strokes his cock with one hand, rubbing over the head with his thumb. “You’re supposed to say that you’d love me even if I got fat, that your feelings for me transcend all physical forms. Where’s the romance, Nate?”

Nate kisses the side of Ray’s jaw, scrapes his teeth down Ray’s throat. “Ray, my feelings for you absolutely transcend all physical forms,” he says solemnly, face completely straight. “In fact, I believe that true love should be kept pure and chaste, unsullied by physical expression of any sort. Maybe I should leave, to prove to you the depth of my devotion.”

He pulls his hand away from Ray’s cock, eyes dancing, and Ray says indignantly, “Yeah, and then I’d get arrested for _homicide_. Move and you die, Fick.”

Nate chokes on his laughter, pushes Ray back against the shower wall and says, “What, I can’t move at all?” Eyes still crinkled up with amusement, he drops to his knees and looks up at Ray, water slicking his hair down and running down his body in slender rivulets.

“No, that kind of moving is totally allowed,” Ray says hastily, and bites down on a groan when Nate leans forward until he’s mouthing over Ray’s hipbone, pausing to suck vivid bruises that send jolts right to Ray’s cock.

“Glad to hear it,” Nate mumbles against Ray’s skin. He takes his time tonguing the crease of Ray’s thigh, rising up slightly to bite Ray’s lower stomach, just generally frustrating the hell out of Ray.

After the fourth time Nate veers away from Ray’s cock to brush his lips teasingly slow against the inside of Ray’s thigh, Ray grabs Nate’s head and says with near-desperation, “Jesus fuck, Nate, would you just fucking—”

Nate tips his head upward to meet Ray’s eyes, says quietly, “Would I just fucking what?” And then, when Ray opens his mouth, he adds, “Show, don’t tell, Ray. Or both, if you must.” Ray’s mouth falls open a little, before he shuts it quickly, teeth clicking together. Yeah, he can do that.

When Ray gets his hands in Nate’s hair, just long enough now for him to really get a grip in it and tug hard enough that it has to sting, Nate shivers slightly in a way that leaves no doubt in Ray’s mind as to what exactly he wants.

“Want me to shove you around a little?” Ray says through gritted teeth, pushes his cock into Nate’s open mouth and watches those pink swollen lips stretch around him like they were made for his cock. “Is that what you want, Nate? Want me to fuck your mouth, keep you on my cock until you can’t breathe and you’re choking on it?” Nate makes a stifled noise and reaches down to start jerking himself off, eyes fluttering shut. “Hands off,” Ray says sharply, and Nate’s eyes fly open at the command. He drops his hand immediately, and that compliance sends a hot thrill down Ray’s spine. “So good, Nate,” Ray says, mouth running off almost on its own now as he fucks into Nate’s mouth with short thrusts, fingers tightening in Nate’s hair. Already he feels his orgasm pool at the bottom of his stomach, so close, just—

Nate rubs two fingers over Ray’s hole, dips just barely inside, but it surprises Ray into coming in Nate’s mouth, breath rushing out of his lungs as he gasps out, “Fuck, _Nate_.” When his vision stops spinning, he looks down to see Nate running his tongue over his lips, licking up the traces of Ray’s come that spilled out of his mouth. “Jesus, get the fuck up here,” Ray says, pulling Nate to his feet and kissing him so hard he thinks he almost draws blood. Nate just moans into his mouth and starts rutting against Ray’s hip, pulls his mouth away to gasp in a breath before he says, “Ray, Ray, touch me, please—”

Ray barely gets one stroke in before Nate’s coming all over his hand, staggering a little drunkenly until Ray pulls him in close. Nate rests his forehead against Ray’s, eyes shut, breath coming fast. “Good morning,” he finally says, voice a little raspy, eyes still closed. Ray starts laughing breathlessly, catches the answering grin blooming bright on Nate’s face. Ray can’t even believe there was a time when his ‘good mornings’ didn’t come accompanied with blowjobs in the shower. He had no fucking clue what he was missing.

“Gonna make me breakfast too?” Ray asks, grinning, and Nate bites the skin under his ear softly.

“Make your own breakfast, I just sucked your cock,” Nate says, and ducks under the shower to rinse himself off with a teasing, happy smile that Ray can’t help but answer.

Good morning doesn’t even begin to cover it.

*

Apparently they’ve both turned into an old married couple or serious geriatrics or something, because on Thursday night they fall asleep at 9:40 with Ray’s face tucked into the curve of Nate’s neck and his arm wrapped around his waist. Whatever. It’s not cuddling if you’re Marines, because Marines don’t fucking cuddle.

Ray’s horror at their growing lack of coolness is only slightly appeased when he wakes up a few hours later to find Nate mouthing at the curve of his shoulder, fingers slowly stretching him open. Ray blinks blearily at the clock, which tells him brightly that it’s 11:15.

“It’s bad manners to go around fucking people in their sleep, Nate,” Ray says, or tries to, at least. His voice kind of breaks off when Nate’s fingers glance over his prostate. Nate pauses for a moment, then huffs out a laugh against Ray’s back.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually complaining about sex, Ray,” Nate says amusedly. “What, have we lost the magic already?”

“You’re going to lose something if you don’t get in me right now,” Ray says, tries to shove himself back onto Nate’s fingers. His cock is apparently miles ahead of Ray in terms of being awake, hard and ready to go. Luckily for his own well-being, Nate adds another finger and uses the other hand to reach around and stroke Ray’s cock.

“Clearly patience is not one of your multitudinous virtues,” Nate murmurs, and pulls both his hands away. Ray swears, cranes his neck around to see what the _fuck_ Nate has to do that’s more important than jerking him off. Nate just grins at him, looking altogether too pleased with himself and somehow about fifteen years old, and fuck if Ray doesn’t just lose all his frustration when Nate looks at him like that. “Up,” Nate directs, smacking Ray’s ass and pulling him up to his hands and knees.

Ray looks at Nate over his shoulder. “What, spanking too? Do we need to take a moment to talk about your kinks, Nate?” he asks, his brain finally starting to come awake beyond the general haze of arousal. He smirks, and Nate makes an amused noise behind him.

“You can take a moment, if you like,” Nate says generously. “I’m going to be kind of busy.” Slowly, slowly, he pushes into Ray inch by inch, hand smoothing over Ray’s hip in a caress. Ray’s breath shudders out of him at the feel of Nate’s cock inside him without a condom; it isn’t the first time but it still makes Ray’s stomach swoop a little. Nate seems determined to drive Ray to insanity, keeping his thrusts slow and knocking Ray’s hand away from his cock, ignoring the way Ray growls at him and tries to push backwards.

“You woke me up in the middle of the night to fuck me, so _fuck_ me already,” Ray says, “what, do you need a fucking instructions manual? I’ll give you a hint, it starts with your cock in my ass and it ends with me coming sometime before I turn _eighty_.”

“Jesus, Ray, do you even _know_ how to stop talking, or have you just trained your mouth to run off entirely on its own?” Nate asks, pulling back until just the head of his cock is inside Ray.

Ray makes a frustrated noise, rumbling up out of his chest, and he retorts, “Maybe I’d shut up if you’d just _fuck_ me properly—” The rest of his sentence dissolves into a sharp cry as Nate slams into him, hitting his prostate dead-on and sending white sparks shooting up into Ray’s vision.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s likely,” Nate says, voice trembling slightly, as he thrusts into Ray again, and Ray realizes that he’s babbling a steady stream of mixed praise and dire threats if Nate doesn’t keep doing exactly what he’s doing. “Jerk yourself off,” Nate orders, thrusts stuttering a little, and Ray knows he’s getting closer to coming. “I’m going to come inside you,” Nate murmurs, like he’s reading Ray’s mind, and Ray starts stroking himself hard and fast, before crying out and coming so hard his vision fades black around the edges a little.

Nate says brokenly, “God, you—” and follows Ray over the edge, coming inside him hot and messy, breathing harsh and shaky. Of course Nate, with his freaky self-control, manages to find the presence of mind to pull carefully out of Ray before letting the two of them collapse onto the bed.

Ray can feel Nate’s come running slickly down his thighs, and he swallows a couple of times to get his voice back before he says, “You know, I’m highly offended that you woke me up in the middle of the night for this, Nate. I feel very objectified. I’m just a piece of ass to you, aren’t I?”

Nate starts laughing quietly, a little helplessly.”Yeah, I can tell how offended you were,” he says, and presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Ray’s jaw. His hand trails down Ray’s back, hesitantly rubs over his hole, wet with Nate’s come. Ray’s breath hitches a little, and he spreads his legs, lets Nate push his fingers into his body. Nate makes a soft noise of want at the wet sounds his fingers make thrusting into Ray, and he hides his face against Ray’s neck. Ray can see his ears slowly turning pink.

“Dirty motherfucker,” Ray says admiringly, voice wavering. He knows Nate can tell it means ‘I like you like that’. Nate pulls his hand away, looks up at Ray. His face is still pink.

“It’s the terrible company I keep,” he says, probably aiming for dryness but just sounding fond instead. Ray grins.

“What, did I steal your innocence or something? Awesome,” he says, and watches smugly as Nate’s mouth quivers with stifled laughter again. Nate reaches out over the side of the bed and pulls up a towel that Ray didn’t even know was there.

Ray blinks at him. “Nate, did you _plan_ this?” he asks, all kinds of delighted.

“Um,” Nate says, looking sheepish and pink. He wipes himself off half-heartedly, cleans Ray up with more care, then tosses the towel somewhere at the foot of the bed. He looks at Ray like he’s just daring him to say something.

Ray shakes his head, pulls Nate back down onto his pillow. “I _am_ a bad influence,” he says, feeling entirely pleased with himself.

“G’night, Ray,” Nate says drowsily, already starting to drift off by the sound of it. “You can congratulate yourself some more in the morning.”

“I plan to,” Ray informs him, but the words come out a garbled mess wrapped up in a yawn, and he tucks his head back into Nate’s shoulder and falls asleep to the sound of his breathing.

It’s still not fucking cuddling.

*

“It’s a Friday evening,” Nate mumbles into his pillow, sounding so somnolent Ray thinks he might actually drop off in the middle of his sentence. “I’m pretty sure we should be going out somewhere right now. Doing something that doesn’t make me think we’ve turned into sixty-year-olds staying at home to watch the news.”

Ray rolls his eyes, pokes a spot on Nate’s shoulder experimentally. Nate hisses and twitches away, almost dislodging Ray from his position straddling Nate’s back. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t get up to go take a piss right now,” Ray tells him, digging his thumbs into the knot in Nate’s shoulder without warning. Nate makes a stifled sound in the back of his throat, buries his face farther in the pillow. Nate is the most overachieving, perfectionist, anal-retentive freak Ray has ever met, and the result of that often culminates in the tension Ray can feel in his back and shoulders.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to,” Nate says, rolling his shoulders back a little. “I can tell this is just an excuse for you to take out your aggression on me. I bet you’re getting off on this.” There’s a smile in his voice.

Ray grins, leans down to bite the back of Nate’s neck sharply. “Oh, believe me, there are a lot better ways for me to take out my aggression on you,” he says, pulls back and smacks Nate’s ass sharply. Nate laughs, the sound muffled by his pillow. Ray can feel that laughter vibrating through Nate’s body under him. He likes it when Nate laughs like that.

Ray gets back to work, kneading Nate’s shoulders, pausing and working out a knot every time Nate flinches a little. If Nate’s going to be wincing, Ray would prefer it be because he fucked him through the mattress, and not because he worked until three in the morning, fell asleep over his laptop and woke up wishing he’d never been born.

Nate pushes back into Ray’s hands when he reaches the middle of Nate’s back, says plaintively, “Ray…”

Ray digs in with the heel of his right hand. “Nate, you’re supposed to say ‘Harder, Ray, give me more’,” he says in a falsetto. “I’m only doing this so I can get the porn soundtrack.”

Nate’s body quivers with his laughter, the second time in less than five minutes. Ray counts that as a personal victory. He can feel Nate’s muscles relaxing slightly under his hands, and when he moves down to the base of Nate’s spine and presses rhythmically, Nate lets out a low moan that sounds exactly like the one he makes when Ray sucks him off. Ray pauses, digs in again, scratches lightly with his nails. Nate makes a sound that’s mostly muffled by his pillow, but Ray can still hear the arousal in it.

Ray grins. Nate’s skin is still slightly damp and flushed from his shower, shiny with the lotion Ray rubbed into his back and shoulders. Ray’s fingers skate easily over Nate’s skin, tracing random zigzag patterns, and as Ray watches, the back of Nate’s neck starts getting slowly pinker.

“Don’t you move,” Ray orders, and presses his hand hard into the middle of Nate’s back as a counterpart to his words. He wriggles down Nate’s body until he’s between Nate’s legs, and watches as Nate spreads his thighs and lifts his hips upward, just a little. A zing goes through Ray’s body, the one he gets any time something he’s been suspecting gets proved right. Nate has very clear ideas about what he wants, and he’ll use the most roundabout ways possible to ask for it without words, like he thinks that if he says it out loud Ray will laugh or something.

Ray leans in and breathes lightly over Nate’s entrance, and feels arousal wash over him hotly as Nate gulps in a shaky breath. “You’re so retarded,” Ray says fondly, drawing back a little. Nate twitches under him, but says nothing. “Seriously, if you can’t ask for what you want with me, the motherfucking king of depravity, then when can you ask for it?” Ray bends his head back down, scrapes his teeth over Nate’s tailbone, flicks his tongue lightly at the top of Nate’s ass. “Come on, Nate, it’s not that hard,” Ray murmurs against Nate’s skin. “All you gotta say is ‘Ray, put your tongue in my ass’. All you have to do is ask for it.”

Nate tries to push back against Ray’s mouth, but Ray pulls away. “Just one sentence, Nate,” he says, runs one hand soothingly over Nate’s back. Nate’s hands are fisted in his pillow, knuckles white, and he makes a broken, pleading noise when Ray rubs his thumb slowly over Nate’s hole, back and forth.

Ray bites Nate’s ass, soothing the sting away with his tongue, and Nate whips his head up, looks at Ray over his shoulder, says roughly, “Ray, put your tongue in my ass before I gut you.”

Ray grins. “That’s more like it,” he says smugly, and dives back in, licking a broad swipe over Nate’s hole before he can retort. Nate is so fucking responsive underneath him, tremors running through him when Ray spreads his cheeks with his hands to get in deeper. Ray hums slightly, sucking at the edges of Nate’s hole, pushing his tongue inside. Nate isn’t the only one that’s loving this; all Ray can taste is Nate on his tongue, Nate who is swearing a steady litany of “Fuckfuckfuck, Rayplease, Ray,” and Ray has to rub his cock against the bed a couple of times, it’s so damn good.

Nate’s so open and wet that two of Ray’s fingers slide in with ease, and he flicks his tongue in between them, getting Nate’s hole messy and spit-slick. Nate lets out a breath that’s a near-sob, shifts up enough to get a hand around his cock. Ray can see his hand working furiously, stroking himself off hard and fast, and when Ray blows a steady stream of air over Nate’s hole and shoves his tongue back inside without warning, Nate cries out and comes hard, hips jerking forward. He almost falls flat on his face, but Ray has a tight grasp on his hips, and manages to set him down gently on the bed.

Nate’s breathing comes fast, shuddering out harshly, like he just ran a marathon. He makes a small noise when Ray scoots up and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of his shoulder, and slowly turns over.

His stomach is splattered with his own come, and he’s flushed bright pink from ears down. Ray can see the slight indent in his lower lip where he must have bitten down it when he came. Nate blinks up at Ray, looking more than a little dazed.

Ray beams down at him, feeling as smug as if he just conquered fucking Europe or something.

“Did I just break your brain?” he asks mock-sympathetically, pets Nate’s side lightly. Nate opens his mouth a couple of times, then shakes his head, mouth curving into a helpless smile.

He reaches out and wraps a hand around Ray’s wrist. “Fuck me, Ray,” he says directly, eyes hot, voice a little rough. “I’m asking for it.”

Ray grins, all teeth, shark-like. “Oh, I think you can do better than that,” he says, and watches Nate grin back at him, all the tension gone from his face. He’s lying under Ray all pliant and loose-limbed, like none of that tension had ever been there at all.

Yeah. Ray’s just that fucking awesome.

*

On Saturday they go for a run. It’s fairly early in the morning, air crisp, sky pink and gold. Ray and Nate hit a rhythm together, feet pounding down on the ground, Ray silent for once. Their breathing falls in sync, in-out-in-out, reverberates in Ray’s bones. They run until they hit a wall, and then they head back home side-by-side, fingers brushing against each other lightly.

The apartment’s within sight when Ray looks down at their barely-touching hands and says slyly, “You know, if you keep trying to hold my hand, I’m going to have to make out with you right here.”

Nate bites his lip. “Is…that supposed to be a deterrent?” he asks, eyes dancing.

“Well, I was pretty sure your well-developed sense of prudishness would make your brain explode at the thought, so,” Ray says, shrugging.

“Prudish—” Nate shakes his head and shoves Ray the last few feet into the apartment, laughing all the while. “Fuck you, Ray.”

Ray grins. “Yeah, that’d show me,” he agrees, and the breath whooshes out of him when Nate turns him around and slams him up against the wall, keys dropping out of his hand onto the floor. Nate’s mouth tastes sweet, like he’s been eating sugar. It probably runs in his bloodstream. He probably throws up puppies and kittens, too. At least, that’s what he looks like—so innocent, knows how to go all wide-eyed like all he does in his free time is watch fucking Disney movies and bake cookies or some shit. Ray knows differently, of course.

Nate pulls away. “You’re an asshole,” he says, grinning brightly. His mouth’s all wet, skin pink from their run. His shirt’s sticking to his back and shoulders, and Ray can see sweat gleaming over the curve of his neck, the hollow of his throat.

Ray can smell him all around, the tang of sweat, sharp and male and so fucking familiar to Ray that it makes his stomach clench reflexively. Ray wants to bury his face in Nate’s neck and inhale, suck bruises into his skin, jerk off right there with the taste and smell and feel of Nate surrounding him.

Ray’s really bad at denying himself, it turns out.

Nate makes a surprised noise when Ray licks the thin skin under his jaw, a noise Ray can feel vibrating under his tongue. Nate tastes so fucking good, smells so good, Ray actually gets a little lightheaded with it.

“What the fuck, are you some kind of fucking sexbot or something,” Ray mumbles into Nate’s skin, “trying to take over my brain with the power of your cock.”

“You say that like it’d be hard to do,” Nate replies, leaning into Ray’s mouth and bracing his arms against the wall on either side of Ray’s head. Ray fists his hands in Nate’s shirt and tugs him closer, stretches the fabric downward until Nate’s collarbone peeks out of the neck of the shirt. Ray sucks sharply at the skin just above there, and a spike of lust lodges in his gut at the way Nate holds himself so still for Ray’s mouth, just stands there with his throat bared and his hands clenched into fists and lets Ray mark him vividly and unmistakably.

“You can’t hide these ones, Nate,” Ray says, and bites Nate harder this time, teeth raking sharply over taut skin. He sucks at the same spot, bringing blood to the surface of Nate’s neck, and feels the way Nate just shudders forward, falling into the length of Ray’s body.

“Do I need to check you for fangs, Ray?” Nate asks, and shoves his hands up Ray’s shirt to scrape roughly over his nipples.

“Do I look like I fucking sparkle?” Ray counters. Ray knows how to use the Internet, and when he sees people running for their pitchforks and arguing over the relative merits of glittery vampires? Ray is all over that shit.

“Ray, there are actually far more literary examples of vampire lore that I was thinking of,” Nate says in his slightly scandalized professor voice, sighing a little. Ray probably shouldn’t find that as endearing as he does.

Ray smirks, and strips Nate’s shirt off his torso in one long movement. “Nate, you can give me an English lesson right now, or you can let me suck your cock. It’s really up to you.” He sinks to his knees and watches Nate sway slightly toward him unconsciously. “If you can do both, even better,” he adds, “I know you get off on language and shit like the pussy Ivy League officer you are.”

“Not an officer anymore,” Nate says, a slight tremor in his voice. “And you must be mistaking me for the one of us that’s in love with the sound of his own voice.”

“So make me shut up, then,” Ray says pointedly. He leans in and nuzzles Nate’s groin, mouths his cock through his running shorts. Nate’s scent is concentrated here, and Ray tucks his hands around the back of Nate’s knees to keep him in place as Ray sucks at the fabric covering his cock, until Nate pushes Ray’s head back and strips the rest of his clothes off, looking a little desperate.

“Ray—” Nate manages to get out, before Ray leans forward and swallows him down, and the rest of Nate’s sentence dies away. Nate threads his fingers carefully into Ray’s hair, so fucking polite about it, and Ray swallows around him and glares at him pointedly in a way that means Just fuck my mouth already, Fick.

For an officer, Nate’s pretty good at taking orders. Especially the implicit ones.

His fingers tighten in Ray’s hair, holding him in place as Nate fucks into his mouth, just using him until his mouth feels swollen and stretched, a little sore in all the best ways and so fucking good. Ray moans around Nate’s cock, spit dribbling down his chin and making everything slick and messy, making Nate chant Ray’s name under his breath like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. Nate’s grip is unbreakable, and he knows exactly how long Ray can go before his lungs start protesting; if there’s one difference Ray sees in Nate now as opposed to when they first came together, it’s that Nate knows he can take what he wants, and it never fails to make heat roll down Ray’s spine.

Ray fists his cock and starts jerking himself off, looks up and meets Nate’s eyes, pupils blown wide and thinly ringed with green. Nate doesn’t last long, not when Ray’s making it as filthy and messy as he knows Nate likes it, moaning around his cock and pulling back with an obscene slurping noise to tongue the head. Nate swears through gritted teeth, tightens his hands in Ray’s hair and comes in his mouth in a hot flood. Ray swallows it all down with his eyes locked onto Nate’s, licking every last trace of it away and pulling off of his spent cock.

Nate’s breathing raggedly, and he pets the side of Ray’s face a little clumsily, runs his fingers over Ray’s mouth. Hesitates, then pushes them inside, stretching Ray’s mouth open again, just a little.

Ray shuts his eyes and sucks on Nate’s fingers; they taste like salt and skin, and fuck Ray’s so close to coming, just a few more strokes—

“You want to taste me, Ray?” Nate asks, voice a little hoarse. “You want to smell like me? If I jerked off all over you, all over your stomach and chest and didn’t let you wipe it off, just kept you in bed with me until all you could smell was me on you? You want that, Ray?”

Ray comes with Nate’s fingers in his mouth, a moan choking off in the back of his throat. Nate pulls his fingers away and drops down to his knees, kisses Ray through the aftershocks, until Ray stops shaking and he thinks he can find his brain again.

“What was that about me and prudishness?” Nate murmurs against Ray’s mouth, lips curving back into a smile.

Ray grins back. “I take full credit for your moral decline,” he says cheerfully, and lets Nate help him to his feet. Nate rolls his eyes.

“You know, I wasn’t a virginal schoolgirl before I met you,” he says dryly, and pushes Ray lightly in the direction of the bathroom.

“News to me,” Ray says, smirking, and darts off toward the bathroom at a run, Nate right behind him.

Though maybe he won’t shower just yet. After all, Nate has a promise to keep.

*

Sunday morning slides Ray into wakefulness, smooth and easy. He blinks, the last hazy traces of his dreams dissolving away, and feels his head move up and down slightly. His cheek is resting on something warm and pliant. A couple more blinks and he realizes that it’s Nate’s stomach moving under his head in time with his breaths, and that Nate’s hand is in his hair, stroking steadily. Ray can hear paper rustling above his head.

It’s all very disturbingly domestic. Ray feels the sudden urge to go out and kill something to prove that he’s still got his balls, but that urge subsides when Nate’s fingers slip sideways a little and stroke over the side of Ray’s face.

“I know you’re awake,” Nate says calmly above him, fingers tugging at Ray’s ear now. “When you’re really asleep I almost forget what a troublemaking Machiavellian bastard you are. I might even go so far as to say that you look vaguely innocent.”

“You take that back right now,” Ray protests around a yawn, and rolls sideways a little until he’s looking right up into Nate’s laughing eyes. “I’ll leave the innocence to you and your boy-scout self, Nate. I was dreaming about your cock.”

Nate presses his lips together to close off his burgeoning smile. “Don’t you think about it enough during the day? I can’t imagine that you’d have any energy to expend on those thoughts in your dreams, Ray.”

Ray smirks. “I think you’re underestimating my subconscious devotion to your cock.”

“What about your conscious devotion?” Nate asks slyly, stroking down Ray’s face again and pressing his thumb in at the corner of Ray’s mouth. Ray bites the tip of it softly, flicks his tongue out against the ridged skin.

“That is so typical,” Ray sighs, finding his best put-upon voice. “I haven’t even been awake ten minutes and you’re coercing me into sex. You just want me for my body, don’t you?”

“It’s definitely not your smartass mouth I’m after,” Nate says dryly, and sets his book on the bedside table. Ray can’t tell what he’s reading, but it looks appropriately long and pretentious and drop-dead boring, exactly the kind of thing Nate would spend his Sunday morning reading. Ray would give up on him entirely and just hand him his nerdy professor merit badge right there, except he knows that Nate really will drop everything to read an Agatha Christie novel, and he’d spend all day in bed watching Iron Chef reruns if he could. Which…probably doesn’t disprove his nerdiness after all.

“If you fall asleep on me again, I’m dumping you on the floor,” Nate informs him, and Ray grins.

“Sorry, princess, are you feeling neglected? Maybe I should do something about that,” Ray says, and wriggles around some more and tugs the sheet down further until his head’s resting on Nate’s hip, mouth inches away from Nate’s cock. “Well, hello there,” he says brightly. Nate’s cock is hard already, his breath wavering a little. That means— “How long were you waiting like this for me to wake up, Nate?” Ray continues, speaking against Nate’s hip so that his tongue darts out against warm skin as he talks. “Thinking about me?”

“Thinking about fucking Angelina Jolie, actually. Sorry to disappoint,” Nate says, mouth twitching into a grin even as he tries to keep his face straight. He shifts a little bit to try and get Ray’s mouth closer to his cock, but Ray pulls away and shakes his head sadly.

“See, and here I was going to be nice and get you off like you so obviously need, Nate. Why do you insist on just sabotaging yourself like that?” he asks, making as if to get up.

In an instant, Nate gets his hands around Ray’s waist and drags him up to sit fully on his lap, fingers digging into Ray’s skin almost brutally. “Don’t you dare move, Ray,” Nate says conversationally, eyes locking onto Ray’s, clear green and merciless. He looks like a man who has absolutely no doubt that his orders will be obeyed.

Ray swallows, mouth suddenly dry. With him and Nate there is a constant push-pull of control, switching back and forth, endlessly unpredictable. There are times when Nate is perfectly happy to let Ray order him around, give him increasingly filthy directives that he’ll fulfill without question. Nate likes it when Ray tells him in full detail all the things he’s going to do to him, and Ray loves the way Nate goes all compliant and yielding for him.

Then there are times like now, when Nate looks at Ray like he expects to be obeyed, like any other option never even occurs to him, and it never fails to get Ray hard so fast he goes dizzy with it.

All right, so the two of them are more than a little fucked up in bed. But hey, the Marines will do that to you.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?” Ray asks, voice already going rough. “’Cause if you’re too tired to get me off or something, I’ve got a hand that functions perfectly well.”

“You won’t touch yourself until I say you can,” Nate says calmly. He smoothes his right hand over Ray’s hip, down his leg, scrapes up the inside of his thigh with his nails. He stops at the crease of his thigh and digs in a little, pulls his hand away to rub over the little crescents left by his nails. “Of course, if you really want, I can leave you alone to jerk yourself off. Is that what you want, Ray?”

Ray stares at him, mouth slightly open. It’s early, he isn’t fully awake, and Nate’s rubbing the skin just inches away from his cock. Pretty much most of the blood in his brain has traveled downward at this point, and Nate’s wetting his lips, pink flash of tongue sweeping out over his mouth distractingly slow.

“Ray, I asked you a question,” Nate says sharply, reaches up and pinches Ray’s nipple roughly, sending a jolt straight to Ray’s cock.

“Fuck, Nate,” Ray spits out, shifting on Nate’s lap. He’s not much smaller than Nate, but when Nate’s got him like this, bareass naked on his lap with a hold on his hips that Ray cannot break, all Ray wants to do is just stay there and fucking let Nate order him around. “No, that is not what I fucking want.”

Nate smiles, sweet as sugar, looking innocent like he’s doing anything but jerking Ray off steady and maddeningly slow, until he’s leaking precome all over Nate’s hand and trying to thrust harder into his grip. “Excellent,” Nate says quietly and drags Ray closer, tipping him forward a little so he’s off balance and his mouth’s inches away from Nate’s. Ray holds himself still as Nate kisses him closemouthed, tongue teasing at the seam of his lips but never pushing fully inside. His hand is still closed around Ray’s cock, stilling its movements anytime he thinks Ray’s getting too close to coming.

Nate bites Ray’s lower lip swiftly, without warning, hard enough to make Ray jolt and run his tongue over his lip to check if he’s actually bleeding. Nate eyes him and shakes his head. “The lack of trust is so wounding, Ray,” he chastises, and pulls his hand away from Ray’s cock.

Ray glares at him wildly, swears breathlessly, “Jesus fucking Christ, Nate, if you don’t get your hand back on my cock right now I’ll poison your food or something, swear to god, and you won’t even see it coming—mmph.” His voice chokes off as Nate calmly shoves three of the fingers of his left hand into Ray’s mouth.

“I would tell you to shut the fuck up, Ray, but I’ve decided against giving orders that I know won’t be followed,” Nate tells him, pulling his fingers out and thrusting them back into Ray’s mouth. “So I thought I would help you with that.”

How nice of you, Ray tries to convey with his eyes and glare. He has a feeling that all his face is saying is Fuck, Nate, give me more.

Nate smiles. Drags Ray a little closer with one hand on his hip, then starts jerking him off again, stretching his mouth open with his other hand. Ray sucks on his fingers and braces his arms against the headboard, trying to hold back from thrusting into Nate’s grip. Fuck, Ray wants—about a zillion different things, the least of which is to just push Nate down and rut against him until he comes all over his chest; but Nate’s running this show, and from the looks of it he isn’t planning on giving Ray what he wants any time soon.

After what feels like hours of Nate stroking his cock slowly and bringing him to the edge, then pulling back and watching Ray whine around the fingers in his mouth, Ray decides Nate might actually be trying to kill him. Ray’s hips stutter forward, and he feels sweat beading up all over his skin, and Nate is still just watching him and jerking him off like they’ve got all the time in the world and Nate intends to use every last second of it.

Nate yanks his fingers out of Ray's mouth, tips his head up and kisses him. Pulls away and dimples a smile as Ray tries to follow his mouth, wavering a little. He speeds up his strokes, says quietly, “Love you like this, Ray.”

And for all that they’ve been doing this for so long and they still don’t say it to each other, Ray’s mind strips off the last three words, and he comes with a gasping cry and shaking limbs, falling forward onto Nate’s chest and feeling kind of like he’s been hit over the head with something heavy.

Coherence slowly trickles back into Ray’s brain, until he can feel his fingers and toes again, and he realizes Nate’s petting his back in long strokes, seemingly unmindful of the fact that he’s still hard underneath Ray.

Ray swallows a couple of times. He opens his mouth and tries for words, gets nothing, then finally says, “Fuck yeah you love this. Who the fuck wouldn’t?” He winces a little at how wrecked his voice sounds, and leans back slightly into Nate’s hand.

Nate’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Yeah,” he says, echoes of meaning reverberating around in his words. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

\--

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End file.
